I walked thru an old New England town, Past the white houses, stiff in their array, The front doors closed, the windows tightly shut, Keeping the strong noon sun from peering in. Flowers, tall, graceful, bright-eyed things Grew hidden in yards where children never played; Past an old grave-yard crammed with ugly ruins Of slabs and crude stone seraphim; Past a closed school-house—it was summer then, Vacation time, but strange to see The streets were free of noise and play. Over the town there hung a solemn hush As tho the villagers had gone to bed To await the end, when all had been decayed. Something had killed the love of life, of youth. The town was senile, filled with lifeless forms Only the clock on the church-top lived— And that was turning round and round, Without purpose or will to stop itself. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE SUN by HAYDEN CARRUTH DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |